Page 66 of The Version You Hide

“Mackenzie!” Grace beams. She rises from the table, moving swiftly in my direction. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Hi,” I say, fidgeting with the strap on my bag. “I hope it’s okay that I came by.”

“You’re always welcome,” she replies warmly, resting a hand on my upper arm. Her gentle touch takes the edge away, that sense of serenity I’ve come to know in her presence washing over me.

“Thank you.”

“Come and sit with us, Mackenzie,” May shouts across the room, her slender hand raised high in the air as she waves us over.

Grace lets out a soft laugh. “Looks like you’ve made fast friends with those two.”

I can’t help but smile as I head over to the table where the two older women sit, both of them working on some type of handmade pottery projects.

“Here,” May says, tossing a chunk of modelling clay in front of me. “Make something.”

“Uh, okay.” I take the clay and begin kneading it. It’s tough at first as I compress it between my palms, but it gradually softens as I continue.

“So, you decided to come back, hey?” Betty says, giving me side-eye. “I’m glad we didn’t scare you off.”

I turn to her, my lips pulling in a one-sided grin. There’s something endearing about this old, white-haired woman and the attitude she exudes. In many ways, it’s like looking into a mirror. One in the distant future anyway.

“Oh, you’ll have to do a lot worse than that to scare me off.”

“Did you get a chance to think about what we talked about the other day, Mackenzie?” Grace asks, dropping down into a chair beside me.

“The art exhibition night?” I ask. “Yeah. I thought about it. I’d really love to, but I can’t figure out what to paint on my canvas.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” Grace says, picking up the piece of clay she’d been moulding when I arrived.

“It can’t be that hard to think of something. Maybe your sexy diver friend could be your muse,” Betty states.

I’m so stunned at her remark I nearly drop the handful of terracotta, my mouth gaping open in shock. “What!? I never said he was sexy!” I retaliate.

She hums in response, a small shrug lifting her petite shoulders. “In my mind he is.”

“Of course, he is,” May responds gruffly. “Because you’re a horn dog, Betty.”

I glance over at Grace and see her lips pressed into a tight line. Like me, she’s suppressing a fit of chuckles. A few seconds later, we fail to control ourselves and bursts of laughter explode around the table. Even Betty herself can’t help but giggle.

May slumps her shoulders, leaning into me. “Is he though?” she whispers loudly.

“Oh, sure, May,” Betty chides. “Now who’s the horn dog?”

“Ladies. I think we’ve established that you’re both clearly horn dogs.” I dump the clay on the table in front of me. I expect the two women to carry on with their art but instead their eyes remain eagerly trained on me, awaiting my response. “Fine. Okay, yes. He is.”

“I knew it!” Betty says excitedly, slamming her bony hands down on the table.

As hard as I try, I can’t stop the smirk that spreads across my face.

“Wait a minute.” From the corner of my eye, I can see May watching me intently. “Something happened with this boy, didn’t it? You’re different today.”

“I am not,” I argue.

I avoid eye contact with the three women, choosing to retrieve the clay and focus my attention on it, but with every passing second, I can feel my face warming with the blush that creeps up from my neck.

“Yes, you are,” Betty joins in.

“Now now, ladies. Let’s give her some breathing room,” Grace says. “If Mackenzie wanted you to know her business, she’d tell you.”

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